


May Angels Lead You In

by DaddyDraco



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: I am still crying, I was listening to "Hear You Me" and boom this happened, M/M, if you can read this let me know if you cry too, im sorry for doing this to our babies, pure angst, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 12:29:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11944233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaddyDraco/pseuds/DaddyDraco
Summary: Inspired by Hear Me You - Jimmy Eat World. Draco tries to deal with the loss but in the end, the grief is too much.Just this song. On repeat. And tissues for me.





	May Angels Lead You In

**Waiting by the train. 11 years old.**

“Hagrid,” Harry asks, looking up to the first friend he has.

His wiry hair blows in the wind as he looks down, “Yes lad?”

Harry watches the other families, the other groups of friends, the loving parents sending them off, the faces of joy and excitement and he can’t help but feel separate from it. He’s in the background, in the smoke of the train, watching the scene unfold out in front of him.

“There’s no one in town I know”

With a ruffle of the small boy’s hair the larger replies, “You’ll find someone, don’t you worry ‘bout it.”

 

 

**After the Malfoy trial. 7 years later.**

“Potter.” The blond calls out reaching his arm to Harry’s shoulder as he is walking away.

The dark-haired boy turns around, his mop of hair almost covering his scar, “Yes Draco?”

Gulping, his adam's apple bobbing he looks from Harry’s glowing green eyes to his scar and back again. He is strangling on his own breath his own tongue caught in his throat, the power to say a million things and the ability to only say one choking him.

“Thank you,” He whispers, his voice cracking, the irises of his stormy ash eyes glisten with unshed tears.

The slight smile Harry presents him is something that Draco never thinks could be aimed at him. But it is. A slight dimple breaking the smooth tan cheek.

“You don’t need to thank me, Draco.” He says sadly, looking into Draco’s eyes, following them everywhere they go, every time they drop lower to his lips, up to his scar, to his neck. Everywhere. Harry turns away at Hermione’s call to him down the ministry corridor.

“Harry!” Draco pleads, the sound of the name on his tongue feeling strange but not out of place. It was always meant to be there. “There’s no one in town I know,”

“Pansy, Blaise, Theo, your mother…” Harry suggests.

Draco stutters, “In America with her girlfriend, in France with his new step dad and mother, at home where he can be alone like he asked to be, she’s going to sort out our finances and the ownership of the Manor…”

Searching the blonde’s eyes, “We’re going to the Burrow, come with us.”

“What about-”

“Ron will be fine with it. Trust me. He’s changed. A lot.” Harry reassures, holding out his hand palm up.

Tentatively, Draco brings his smooth fingers over the calloused ones beneath him and they brush so gently, trustingly.

 

 

**In the renovated Grimmauld Place. One year later.**

“Harry!” Yes, that name was always meant to be on his lips. Harry was always meant to be on his lips.

The sun is setting, the light behind the curtains is dim and the bed is warm and open and loving. Lips on his scars on both their scars, sectumsempra, traitor scars from his disloyalty to the Dark Lord, the lightning bolt, the detention, the beatings, the locket. Lips and whispers and sweet, sweet words like honey dripping from each other's mouths. Holding each other so close, breathing in each other's ears, the humming from deep within their chests echoing with every moan. Legs tangled together.

“Good boy,”

Bliss is heavenly. But bliss is finite. The edge of orgasm fades away.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

 

**In the kitchen of the Burrow. A few months later.**

“I told him to refuse the job” Draco explains to Ron.

The fire crackles and flickers violently against the mantle, Harry is sitting on the sofa, out of view from Draco in the fire.

“Draco, I know it’s hard but he wanted to be an Auror and that’s what he is. He’s been assigned to his mission and he’ll be back in three days. He will be fine.”

The fire is quiet as Harry walks over to the side of the fireplace.

“Can you at least tell him to come home, I want to see him before he leaves.”

A nod of a head. A flare of light.

“I love you you bastard so you better come back to me.”

“Scared Malfoy?”

“Yes. How could I fucking not be.”

“I’ll come back to you.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

“I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too”

Slow sweet kisses. Strangling tight embraces. Bliss is heavenly, but bliss cannot last.

 

 

**In despair. A week later.**

“They found him.” Ron’s empty voice echoes through the room, emotionless.

“He’s come back to me?”

“We couldn’t bring him back.”

“But you found him.”

“He is - Draco we couldn’t bring him back. He’s gone.”

“Why are you saying these things to me. I know I hurt you in the past but -”

“He’s gone. There’s nothing. No magic. No potion. No muggle method. He’s. Gone.”

“Get out.”

“He’s in Mungo’s, room 493.”

“Get. Out.”

 

 

**Somewhere. Sometimes. Because without you seconds feel like years.**

The grave is cold, snow is falling and feathering. The nights are bleak. A ring of lilies are at the headstone. Choirs can be heard. Church bells ring. Carols are being sung.

Draco takes off his gloves and rests them on the grass. His young hands are now thin with malnutrition and his once bright eyes are cold as steel, sunken into the hollows of his skull. He removes his hat and disregards it to the grass. Undoing the buttons of his thin coat he crouches down to the engraved slab on the floor in Godric’s Hollow. Ear to the floor, head to the headstone and his ring of lilies resting over his head like a crown. His stomach to the slab, his fingers tracing the words “Harry James Potter”.

The winter coldness seeping into his bones but the numbness had set in long ago. Draco had been cold ever since he saw Harry in St. Mungos. Ever since he had said “I love you” for the last time.

The tears from his repressed emotions flooding silently down his cheeks and making rivers in the engraved words.

 

 

“There’s no one in town I know.”

“You gave me some place to go.”

“I never said thank you for that.”

“I thought I might get one more chance.”

“What would you think of me now?”

“So lucky, so strong, so proud?”

“I never said thank you for that.”

“Now I’ll never have a chance”

 

 

His voice becoming raspy as his breaths are harder to take and his ribs feel crushed under his own weight. His thin hands fall flat to the grave.

 

 

“If you were with me tonight”

“I’d sing to you just one more time.”

“A song for a heart so big.”

“God wouldn’t let it live.”

 

 

_“May angels lead you in.”_

 

“Harry?”


End file.
